Sunday, October 30, 2011

The title is copied from Dennis Prager as I submit the following "works of art" :

Picasso

Ian, age 7

10. Without God, there is little to inspire people to create inspiring art. That is why contemporary art galleries and museums are filled with "art" that celebrates the scatological, the ugly and the shocking. Compare this art to Michelangelo's art in the Sistine chapel. The latter elevates the viewer — because Michelangelo believed in something higher than himself and higher than all men.

Again, from Dennis Prager. The entire article on the goodness of religion (He is a practicing Jew, very conservative, and a favorite radio host of ours.) can be read here.

My children scoffed when I put up the Picasso prints on the first day of October and are looking forward to what they find tomorrow morning (Renoir), so when I suggested they attempt to copy one of the prints, Ian made a derisive boy noise and swaggered over to the art basket to choose his weapons. He presented me with the above picture and said something like, "I did this in half an hour."

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Blankets are an essential part of our family life.We spread them out on the floor for tea parties, arranging sweet snacks into the middle and circling the edges with our hungry bodies.We use half a dozen of them for rainy day (or 20 below day) forts, each child clamoring for their own space within the quilted walls.Most belovedly, though, we curl up underneath the cloth for book reading.Although none of my children has a “blankie” and any one will do for the task at hand, there exists some unwritten rule that requires every child to be, if not actually embraced by the blanket, to be touching it somewhere.A recent read-aloud morning found us thus : Mom and two toddlers in a chair and under The Blanket, a pumpkin colored fleece newly retrieved from the basement depths with the change of seasons; two older children sitting at our feet, on top of orange fluff that flowed onto the floor (This rendered those of in the chair captive, since any shifting pulled down The Blanket, which, according to some other unwritten rule, is to be avoided at all costs.).The very cool teenager, not to be confused with the younger children, was nonchalantly leaning against the chair, but his arm was resting on The Blanket. So we remained, pleasantly entangled with each other as I read The Secret Garden.

It is comforting to reflect upon The Blanket as a type, or picture, of the Church.We connect with Her in varying ways throughout the years, as seasons of life turn, as our circumstances alter, and as emotions ebb and flow.Sometimes we long to be completely hidden within the Church for illuminated peace and healing quiet.Perhaps we are content to be casually wrapped and happily chatting with enfolded others.Maybe we are purposefully reaching outward, retaining the all-important connection to a corner, as a pivot-point.And so we live, touching The Blanket, our Holy Mother Church ~ for peace, for quiet, for comfort, for healing, for fellowship, for grounding, for sharing the heavenly Eucharist meal.It is forever available to each of us and to all of us, as God’s beloved family.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

CF has been very quiet lately. Almost a year since his last hospitalization and no fearful flare-ups in between. Sometimes it goes like that. And sometimes he's been in for two weeks, out for six, in for two, out for six, through several cycles. Tough times. Makes Mommies feel utterly incompetent, and with sinfully short tempers. Dangerous mix. Recognizing this is half the battle toward safeguarding sacred relationships. That and flawlessly foamed cappuccinos (My personal daily indulgence when Rees is "in".)!

He spent four monotonous hours last Friday at "Prov" (Providence Hospital), subjecting himself to scores of screening tests for a drug study. Then a telephone call two days later ~ rejected. Rejected because his lung function wasn't low enough.

He was happily disappointed. Happy at his fairly healthy pulmonary numbers ; disappointed at his inability to access the experimental drug with a shorter delivery system that would lessen time spent "doing medicines".

*He just read over my shoulder and corrected me : "I'm more disappointed, Mom, because they pay meto offer my body to science."

Well pardon me. I'm only happy. Sorry, kid (!).

Resting in these quiet CF times, but ready to toughen up if necessary ~Warmly,Allison

Thursday, October 6, 2011

For the past few mornings, Joseph's hairdo has been a cross between Justin Bieber and Albert Einstein. Ian and Luke, lacking this biographical information, felt left out of the milk-snorting laughter. This prompted google image searches with a viewing of Bieb's video, taking up the better part of an hour yesterday morning. You know, to ensure my little boys' cultural literacy.

About Me

HAPPINESS

I asked professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness.And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men.They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them.And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along the Desplaines RiverAnd I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with their women and children and a keg of beer and an accordian. (Carl Sandburg)